


Entr'acte

by Dorminchu



Series: Insult to Injury (and appendices) [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Character Study, Deleted Scenes, Experimental Style, F/M, HOT SHOWER SEX WOAH MOMMA, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not SPECTRE Compliant, Safin is His Own Warning, Scarification, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorminchu/pseuds/Dorminchu
Summary: 2013:It was a rare instance where he could let his guard down; or so one would think.[Deleted Scene!]
Relationships: Lyutsifer Safin & Madeleine Swann, Lyutsifer Safin/Madeleine Swann
Series: Insult to Injury (and appendices) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971970
Kudos: 7





	Entr'acte

**Author's Note:**

> Deleted scene for _Insult to Injury_ that was too spicy to make the cut. Takes place directly after [Chapter Four](/works/22742821/chapters/63356146). For style points, it's written exclusively in the style of Ian Fleming (for reference, [I Write Like](https://iwl.me/)) because yes, I'm actually that nerdy. ~~Granted, something seems to have tipped the piece as a whole back over into Anne Rice territory but I'll pick my battles.~~
> 
> Translations are in the notes at the end. If there's a mistranslation feel free to bring it to my attention; I'm admittedly more fluent in Spanish than French.
> 
> EDIT 10/15/20: Fixed a couple grammatical errors + general pacing.
> 
> EDIT 10/16/20: Progression has been smoothed over. Also made the sex a bit more... well, explicit!

He had left Swann asleep and the door ajar. Upon his return she could be heard conversing quietly on the phone, presumably with White. At a glance she had thrown her shirt back on and her posture was tense. As he was still waiting for a verdict, Safin went to take a shower.

The body wash smelt artificial, some lemony concoction, but the bar soap was workable. He let the warm water rush over him and his mind go blank.

It was a rare instance where he could let his guard down; or so one would think.

He did not hear Swann come in after him. He only saw the door move and the indistinct shape in motion against the fogged glass. Safin made himself very still. He waited until he determined the gait and build were in fact Swann's.

Now, Safin knew she'd been carrying a handgun in her bag when she was first collected from the clinic in Paris. He knew also that she had expressed a fair amount of contempt towards him up until several days ago. Either she fancied herself an assassin or she was simply vying for a second go. Regardless of her intent, there were three bathrooms in the house and no justifiable reason for her to be in here.

Still, he did not move until the figure drew close enough to be recognisable. Then he opened the door and looked down at the blue eyes. Her hands were empty. He did not request a motive. She had made herself clear. He let her step into the stall alongside him without further acknowledgement. The new proximity left enough room to manoeuvre as in a holding cell. The light threw her features into relief; soft, unmarred, like a fawn that had recently grown into its body, devoid of justifiable fear and instead given way to an arrogant complacency that often occurs within captivity.

She took up the body wash and paid him no mind while she lathered her skin, rinsed off. Safin took note of her nudity but did not linger on the idea, assessing the figure as one that lacked an appreciation of its mortality. The jet-stream of the water hissed around them like blood in the ears.

Initially, she'd seemed a bit more demure. Now she turned to him with a challenging light in the blue eyes. She closed the distance in a step and touched his face. Well, he thought, why not? One marred hand fell to rest on her spine and the other curled loose on the back of her head in contemplation.

Then the hand on her spine went to her buttocks and he hauled her completely to his breast. Swann sucked in a breath. The skin smelt like artificial lemon. There was nowhere for her to go but she didn't seem particularly concerned. The golden hair was wet and had a pleasant weight to it in-hand.

Really, he only needed his wrist.

He worked over the sinuous body in his arms with quiet, pointed efficiency. Once she was suitably engrossed he parted her legs. With the other hand, he made a fist in her hair and tugged her head up to bare the white throat. Swann rolled her hips to meet him, gasping sharply. He squeezed her hair in acknowledgement, or some vestige of affection.

He could feel her pulse fluttering against his fingers and considered once more the subject of her mortality. He turned so the nape of her neck was away from the falling water. Swann was anchored by the heels and one hand on his neck. He felt the other hand sleight on his hip and kissed her taciturn mouth. Swann groaned, turned away. He asked: _what, Madeleine?_

She caught him in her fist and pumped once. With a muted groan, like laughter but not quite the same, he took that arm, put it around his waist, crushed her to the wall and fucked her with his hand until she was shaking.

Then all at once he stopped. Swann gasped, trembling, unsated. Steam flooded his lungs. He looked down at her in consideration. Then it was the same as before, starting and stopping, watching her writhe between lineoleum and his wrist, not helpless but indignant. It was not for lack of want but to see how much she could take before she understood what he was up to.

She got very quiet. The eyes fluttered, wide without terror and the blonde hair hung lank around the face.

By the third impediment she'd had enough. Her brows knitted, her face screwed up. She reared back and hissed: _Va te faire foutre._

He dragged his mouth down her throat, at her breasts. She was perhaps trembling more from the effort of her affront than desire alone. He continued until he was on his knees and she put her hand to the back of his neck with a longing behind the eyes.

So he went to her. Madeleine surged forth, gasping, slick off herself. He felt the pulse flutter wildly against his mouth like a heartbeat. He turned his head and opened her up.

The moan resounded, hushed. All the tension was in her fist on his nape and trembling legs. 

The first go with her had been an educated risk for the sake of the job. This was not so different.

Swann tugged at his hair once and rasped: _Venez ici._

So he went up to her and made good on his teasing. It was a vicious finish that left them both discombobulated but he didn't show. The hiss of the shower came back to him first as did the pinpricks of water on his skin. Swann's coquettish smile did not escape his attention. He did not return the sentiment.

**Author's Note:**

> Va te faire foutre - "Screw you/Fuck off."  
> Venez ici - "Come here." (informal?)


End file.
